


Into the Sky

by TranslucentAirlines



Category: Into The Storm (2014)
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Drowning, F/M, Multi, Natural Disasters, minneapolis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TranslucentAirlines/pseuds/TranslucentAirlines
Summary: There's a reason why airliners aren't supposed to fly through thunderstorms. Now add a couple tornadoes to the mix.





	1. Onslaught

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a modified version of a sequence in a novel I am writing. I decided to turn it into a fanfic of one of my favorite movies, "Into The Storm".
> 
> Allison and Gary are both in their late twenties in this fic, and neither of them have kids. Kaitlyn, Donnie, and Trey remain the same age. Kaitlyn and Donnie are dating.
> 
> Similarlies: airport, passenger jet, tornado, water.
> 
> Three Original Female Characters have joined: Romania Karpov, Karen Ferula, and Arlene Redpath.

**Nina’s Coffee Café — Downtown Saint Paul**

**826amCDT**

At a coffee place near downtown Saint Paul, Allison sits with her best friend Arlene Redpath, who is also the Vice-leader of Storm-Riders. As a thunderstorm rages just outside the café, Allison takes a sip of lemonade. She and Arlene are also peering at her tablet, which is showing a radar map of Minnesota. A collection of intense red blobs hover over northern Iowa all the way up to Duluth. The red indicates strong thunderstorms with a potential to create tornadoes. Purple blobs identify the most intense storms.

Arlene says, “The National Weather Service just issued a Tornado Sequence Warning for all city within 20 miles of Interstate 35. But what’s confusing to me would be _this_.” She points at some data on the tablet that is telling her the region’s current temperature is 93 Fahrenheit.

“That’s impossible,” Allison says in disbelief, “a tornado can’t form where it’s that hot.”

“I know right?” Arlene agrees. “The people at The Weather Channel have been on this thing since last night. That humungous cold front from the Gulf of Mexico is on the way. I’ve never seen something like this. So if we’re gonna have tornadoes today, they gonna happen in a hurry somewhere around here. We have to advise an early Tornado Warning.

Allison is puzzled and unconvinced. “Yeah, but they’re saying _ninety-three_ Fahrenheit. That doesn’t look right! Does that look right?”

Arlene shrugs defensively and says, “I checked everybody. Weather-dot-com, Weather Bug, and even AccuWeather. And we all know nobody can trust AccuWeather. Everybody says ninety-three Fahrenheit.”

The power in the restaurant flickers out, sending a wave of gasping and uneasiness through everyone in the store. The lights fail to return.

Her smartphone rings, and she answers it. “What’s happenin’ what’s happenin’?”

A familiar voice greets her, but the voice is full of dread. <Miss Allison. Oh thank God.>

“Hi,” she replies. “Mister Josh. Hi. Is something wrong over there?”

Arlene looks up from the tablet with a questioning look on her face.

Josh Crescent lets out a wary sigh. <Yes ma’am, I’m so sorry. Something bad just happened here at school, and both your siblings were involved.>

“That’s unfortunate,” says Allison.

<Extremely so. Kaitlyn was attacked . . . by some people from our Varsity wrestling team and they broke her right hand. Donny and a couple friends believe the attack was sexually-motivated.>

Arlene can hear everything Mister Crescent is saying through the phone. She puts a hand to her mouth.

Mister Crescent continues, <When Donny came to her immediate defence, the wrestlers attacked _him_ as well. Donny now has tiny skull fractures and lacerations to his face and both arms. The Nurse says he’ll need stitches, and Kaitlyn needs a cast. I place no blame on your people, although the battle was brutal and may account for around 106-thousand dollars in school property destruction. >

“Oh my god,” Arlene sympathizes.

“Oh, no,” Allison gasps as her eyes grow wide. “Are they safe?” As she waits for an answer, she can hear Mister Crescent sniffling and gasping.

<Yeah, they’re safe; please don’t worry. They’re still with the Nurse, but they require immediate medical transport. We summoned an Ambulance but that was a whole half-hour back. They aren’t anywhere near this place yet.>

Allison sighs again and tries to hold back tears. “Alright, Mister Crescent, here I come.”

<Miss Allison, please be careful,> Mister Crescent warns her. <We just heard something about a Tornado Sequence Watch. Donny says that means to expect around one-hundred tornadoes to hit at the same time.>

“Thank you Mister Crescent,” Allison says in a shaky voice.

Arlene is shocked. “ _Tornado Sequence?!_ ” she echoes. “It’s too early for them to be able to tell that!”

Allison hangs up her phone and looks at Arlene with a grave expression. “I know. So this will be the biggest storm system we’ve ever dealt with.”

“But we’ve never had to do a _Tornado Sequence_!” Arlene protests.

“Precisely,” Allison replies. She begins to gather her things. She keeps glancing outside at the worsening weather. Her heart rate increases as she takes a shaky breath.

“Let’s go Arlene,” Allison orders.

\----

> <This is a massive and unprecedented threat. The tornado in Bemidji was just the start. The Vigilante Tornado Warning for Bemidji is now a Tornado Sequence. Anybody who lives within ten miles of Interstate 35 between Albert Lea and Minneapolis is in imminent danger. I say again this is an upgraded Tornado Sequence Warning for all cities within ten miles of Interstate 35 between Albert Lea and Minneapolis. I urge you, please, to go somewhere safe, stay away from windows and doors if you can.>
> 
> — Governor of Minnesota Jessica Anthony-Hollis, Monday May 5th, 2036 at 828amCDT

 ----

**Westbound Interstate 94 / United States Highways 12/52 — Exit 240 — Saint Paul**

**Monday May 5 th, 2036**

**9amCDT**

Traffic is moderately heavy on the 8-lane-wide Interstate 94, heading westbound out of Saint Paul and into Minneapolis. Allison anxiously watches the trees as they bend and sway, almost bending over to be level with the ground in the wind and rain. The sky is overcast with dark cumulonimbus clouds to the south and east and the beautiful red light in the west. The rain is very loud, heavy, intense, and horizontal.

Allison’s cell phone rings again. This time it is Romania Kirov, a vehicle driver for Allison’s storm team.

<Miss Allison, where did you go?> Romania’s voice is frantic.

“I’m driving to the school to pick up my step-brother and -sister,” says Allison. “Somebody decided to beat the living crap out of them both.”

<Ah. That sounds fun.>

“I know right?”

A loud clap of thunder slams the freeway, making Allison’s car vibrate. “Okay, yeah, what’s up?”

<Governor Anthony-Hollis just issued a Tornado Sequence Warning for every city within twenty miles of Interstate 35 between Albert Lea and us. The data on my tablet is acting up so I can’t give an accurate estimate of where the storm is centered, but I can see it with my eyes. It’s freakin’ massive. However the last time I checked was about five minutes back and it seems to be centered between Savage and Apple Valley, and it’s heading for Minneapolis. Also, we have a tornado on the ground in Faribault, and the tornado’s like two miles wide. Travelling north along Interstate 35 at about 70 miles per hour. It looks like it’s part of the same system we’re seeing here. That tornado will be here in an hour or so.>

Allison weaves around a Wal-Mart truck that is hogging the second westbound lane from the left, out of a total four lanes in each direction. “Alright, Romania, I was just with Arlene, she’s gonna go grab Brain, and she wants us to check in at the airport. I don’t have a handle on what exactly she wants to do.”

<Miss Allison, I need you to listen to me for a couple seconds. The tornado in Faribault has destroyed Albert Lea and the western side of Owatonna. More than 80-percent of Albert Lea has been wiped off the face of the planet. Ground scouring down to three feet deep has been observed between Faribault and a point just south of the border with Iowa, which is where the tornado started. The tornado’s bearing down on a huge traffic jam on Interstate 35. Witnesses are saying cars are being thrown for several miles.>

It takes Allison a couple moments to figure out the enormity of what Romania is telling her. Cautiously, Allison says, “This is an EF5.”

<Yes ma’am, this is an EF5. Some helachopper pilots issued a Tornado Warning before the tornado destroyed Albert Lea, but the winds of the tornado are extending so far beyond the visible funnel that the helachopper crashed. All four pilots inside were killed.>

“Oh no,” says Allison.

Romania Karpov continues. <We need to start warning people. We need to warn everybody, whoever will listen. The Faribault tornado had a wind speed of 418 miles per hour while tracking through Albert Lea. Right now I’m seeing it with wind speeds of 244 miles per hour. It has lost a lot of power but 244 miles an hour is still bad news. It is showing no signs of slowing down. If it keeps at its current speed and size, it will hit the Minneapolis Saint Paul International Airport directly within the next hour.”

Allison asks, “How do you have a tornado with a wind speed of 418 miles an hour?!”

Romania can only grunt in response.

Allison: “Where _are_ you guys at?”

<I’m with four of our guys, and we’re comin’ up on the airport right now. If you look in that direction, you’ll see the supercell. It’s impossible to miss.>

Allison looks toward the southwest, in the direction of the Minneapolis Saint Paul International Airport. She gasps at the gigantic line of beautiful blue-silver thunderclouds. A blue light whips across the sky, and an explosion of thunder follows about six seconds later.

“Oh my gosh,” she breathes, her eyes wide. Her heart pounds with a combination of terror and excitement.

<Okay, Miss Allison, my tablet just gave me a notification that says we have a confirmed tornado on the ground southwest of Belle Plaine,> says Romania. <My radar suggests this area as the most intense part of the supercell. This’ll be the biggest to-do list in modern history!>

\----


	2. Floor It

 

 

> "Governor Anthony-Hollis just issued a Tornado Warning for all cities within 20 miles of Interstate 35.”
> 
> — Romania Karpov

**De LaSalle High School — Minneapolis**

**915amCDT**

Donny Chehalis sits in the Career Center with his girlfriend, Kaitlyn Vikarian. The pain in Kaitlyn’s left hand has faded for the time, so she cannot feel it, but she has difficulty moving it. It now sits in a cast made crudely of balsa wood and silk cloth. Donny is not in any better shape. His short war with Eric and Richmond has awarded him with a six-inches-long gash in his face which will definitely require stitches; similar gashes on both his arms that are covered with cotton-ball-like bandages; glass shards in his hands; several-dozen other insignificant cuts and bruises; and a Reese’s-Peanut-Butter-cup-sized bump on his forehead.

Donny looks at her, “Are you okay?”

Kaitlyn returns the look with tears in her eyes. She blinks them back and leans against Donny for comfort.

Donny sighs and shuffles in his chair. He is used to this interaction with Kaitlyn. Instead of answering the question, he fires off another of his own. “Why did they attack you?”

Kaitlyn sighs and answers, “You don’t want to know.”

Donny is becoming slightly annoyed. Her shifts the bloody rag on his face to look at Kaitlyn before saying, “Kaitlyn, I basically saw what they did so why won’t you just say it. You never give me a straight answer. Listening to you deflect questions like that gets old, pretty fast.”

Kaitlyn gives in and speaks up. “Richmond used his whole body to slam me against a locker, and then he said, ‘Love ya, Sandy!’” She uses an imitated male voice when quoting the boys. “ _You_ know how much I hate to be called Sandy.”

“Yeah okay,” Donny agrees. “So what else?”

“Well then, Eric started pinning my arms up above my head, and they _both_ started touching me, everywhere on my body. When I tried to scream for help, Richmond covered up my nose and mouth so I wouldn’t be able to breathe.”

As Kaitlyn is telling her story, Donny’s eyebrows fold themselves inward, giving away his subtle anger.

Kaitlyn continues. “Eric and Richmond both kept asking me if I wanted to make love to them, and when I said _no,_ they just said, ‘Yeah, ya do! We know you want it!’ And they wouldn’t let me go, and they kept touching me, and rubbing me . . .” her words begin to trail off.

“Alright, that’s disgusting,” says Donny, shaking his head slowly in disgust. “Imma have to kill them.” He means it as a joke, but at the same time, he really wants to do them physical harm.

Kaitlyn takes a deep breath as the lights in the school flicker a bit, and she continues. “I couldn’t hold my breath anymore, so I tried to like, twist my body to throw them off balance, but they’re strong. Richmond just covered my nose and mouth harder. And then he started kissing me. So I bit his tongue.”

“Seriously?!” Donny says. “Why would you do that?”

“I couldn’t breathe! He was covering my nose and mouth! I needed air! I just told you that!”

“I didn’t hear you _say_ it!” Donny snaps back.

“Because you never _listen_. I’m starting to think you’re deaf.”

“I _was_ listening,” Donny says, “but it’s kind-of hard to do _that_ when I have excellent hearing, Miss Miranda won’t turn off her annoying country music, and in case you haven’t noticed yet, it’s still thundering, as it has been this whole morning. Maybe when you get amazing hearing you’ll understand how mad it makes _me_.”

“You,” says Kaitlyn, “just need to learn how to tune all the outside sound _out_.”

“I _can’t_!”

“And I _already_ have great hearing. Or else I wouldn’t be woken up at two-and-a-half-o’clock every morning to your annoying watch alarm that you keep forgetting to reset to 230 _pm_.”

“I _did_ reset it to 230pm,” Donny says.

“How much you want to bet?” Kaitlyn challenges.

“One-hundred-and-ninety-five dollars.”

“Okay,” Kaitlyn says confidently, “check it.”

Donny presses some buttons on his watch, and a couple seconds later his face carries a blank expression.

“Toldja,” Kaitlyn says with a smirk. “And you think _women_ are idiots.”

“Yeah whatever, I’m not giving you no 195 dollars. Nice try though.”

“It was _your_ idea!”

“It was _your_ bet!”

“So?” says Kaitlyn. “You have to stick with the terms of the bet. That’s why they call it a bet. I won the bet, so you need to pay up. I want my 195 dollars!”

“All I’m giving _you_ is a kick in the teeth,” Donny jokes. Then he adds more seriously, “Those beautiful, beautiful teeth."

“Alright, when you can get your foot higher than my chest, then maybe I’ll believe you,” Kaitlyn says.

Donny says, “I can get my foot higher than your whole face. I’ve been able to for years because I practice every day.” He thinks for a second, and then adds, “Trying to find out who needs me to put it up their —”

“Nope. I don’t. But Eric and Richmond might need that,” Kaitlyn jokes semi-enthusiastically.

A couple seconds later Donny said, "Just kidding, I ain't gonna kick ya. I love you."

Kaitlyn shifts her body a little so her head is resting on Donny's shoulder. Donny's arm is encircled around her midsection.

Kaitlyn says softly, "I love you too." Her lips curl up into a small smile, despite what she and Donny have just endured.

Donny brings his hand up to wipe his hot face, and the hand falls away drenched in sweat.

“Besides, I might try to get into martial arts or something like that. Although I don’t know anybody German who also knows martial arts.”

He wipes his head again. “Jeez. Why is it so hot in here?”

About ten seconds later, the lights flicker again. Miss Miranda’s radio starts playing broadcasting static instead of country music. After that, Kaitlyn and Donny both hear a loud wailing siren, muffled by distance, slowly rising and falling in pitch.

Kaitlyn whispers, “Oh no.”

Miss Miranda looks around anxiously.

Donny’s smartphone vibrates prompting him to look. “Kaitlyn,” he breathes. “Look at this.”

The top of the screen is red inside of which white letters scrolling to the left read:

< Tornado Sequence Warning issued for all cities within 20 miles of Interstate 35 between Albert Lea and Minneapolis. Effective immediately until advised. >

\----

**West bound Interstate 94 — Exit 235 — Mississippi River — Downtown Minneapolis**

**843amCDT**

“Finally,” Allison breathes, “a freeway that isn’t full of Seattle people!”

She is driving on Interstate 94 in downtown Minneapolis at 76 miles per hour. This section of this Interstate has three westbound lanes and four eastbound lanes. As she passes under some ramps, her phone rings. She answers with her car’s speaker system.

“Hello?” she says warily.

<Hi, Allison.>

The other voice belongs to Gary Fuller, the head analyst for the Storm-Riders.

“Hi Gary. What’s going on?”

<Hi Allison, I'm here with Trey. I just had to have my car towed. Somebody destroyed it while I was running errands. Whoever did it slashed holes in all four tires, broke all the windows, and stole my laptop too.>

“Uh-oh,” says Allison. “I have a laptop you can use. Where you at?”

<I’m at the headquarters of Target in Downtown.>

“Alright. I never knew Target _had_ a headquarters. Here I come.”

Interstate 94 crosses the Mississippi River and gains an extra westbound lane. About a minute later, the Interstate weaves through several jumbled overpasses, all associated with Interstates 94, 35-West, United States Highways 12 and 52, Minnesota Trunk Highway 55, and a short freeway known as Hiawatha Avenue South.

Allison reports, “I am on Interstate 94 right now, and I just passed Hiawatha Avenue South. Now what?”

Gary says, <Interstate 94 will straddle Interstate 35-West until the Grant exit. Take that exit, but stay left when you get to the fork. That will take you to Eleventh.>

The exit she needs is a half-mile ahead. After Interstate 94 leads Allison under three additional arterial bridges, ahead lay another interchange. The right-most ramp turns north toward Minnesota Trunk Highway 65, and later to Eleventh Street South. In the event of not taking this ramp, the freeway continues westbound as a combination of United States Highways 12 and 52 and Interstate 94. At this point, Interstate 35-West makes a shallow, 90° turn, beyond which lay the largest shopping mall in the nation, a huge international airport, and a vast layout of adjoined suburban cities.

Allison decelerates slightly, activates her hazard lights, and takes the ramp on the right. She keeps left at the fork, as directed by Gary, as the ramp curves west-northwest-ward, over the ramp to Trunk Highway 65, and onward to become the three-lanes-wide Eleventh Street South.

\----

 

 

> < A tornado was spotted at 905amCDT near Albert Lea, in Minnesota. The tornado is two miles wide and is traveling on heading 53 at 85 miles per hour. This is a very dangerous tornado, capable of producing extreme wind, golf-ball-sized hail, and torrential rain. The tornado currently has sustained winds of 470 miles per hour. If you are listening to this broadcast, you are required to take immediate shelter from this tornado. New from the National Storm Center in Red Wing, this is a Tornado Sequence Warning. >
> 
> — Tornado Sequence Warning — Monday May 5th 2036 910amCDT

**\----**

**De LaSalle High School — Downtown Minneapolis**

**843amCDT**

 

The first segment of the school day is over, but nobody is going to their next class.

The Principal of De LaSalle High School has mandated an Sequence Warning evacuation. In the hallway outside the Career Center, a big, widescreen Vizio television is showing live footage of the tornado as it approaches Burnsville, a rapidly-growing suburb of Minneapolis. The headline on the TV reads <HERE I COME>. The tornado is relatively narrow, blue-grey in color, and extremely beautiful.

Donny stares at the tornado as if it were a pretty girl at the mall; he cannot stop staring.

Kaitlyn Vikarian, his beautiful girlfriend, tugs on his arm. “Come on, Donny, we have to go, that tornado’s coming towards _us_!”

“You don’t know that,” says Donny.

“Yes I _do_ ; I just got a text from Gary Fuller!”

Donny looks at the ceiling and shuts his eyes tightly in disbelief before saying “Aw, I hate that dude.”

Kaitlyn shows Donny the text. < I’m with ur sister. Tornado has bn spotted in belle plaine. Heading twds you now >

Kaitlyn gives him a meaningful look.

“Alright, well, we should probably get out of here.”

“You don’t say,” Kaitlyn retorts.

“Where are we supposed to go?”

“I don’t know, and De LaSalle has no basement.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Donny says.

On the TV, the tornado is almost completely hidden from view by flying trash. A large object explodes at the base of the tornado, and the fireball is immediately swept to the right, which is the tornado’s direction of rotation.

In the Northern Hemisphere, tornadoes normally rotate counterclockwise, as opposed to clockwise in the Southern Hemisphere.

“Well, we can’t go out _side_ ,” says Donny. “Look at all the trash in the sky!”

Unexpectedly, Kaitlyn grabs Donny’s arm, throws it over her shoulder, and half-carries-half-drags him along as she heads toward the south end of the school.

“What?! Where we going?!” Donny yells.

“Outside is our only option,” Kaitlyn yells back.

The siblings rush down the right side of the longitudinal hallway. On the left, at least two-hundred people are running northward. People who can drive or are catching rides are running southbound alongside Kaitlyn and Donny, toward the southern entrance and the parking lot.

Outside, they are met with a massive, steady, westward blast of wind. Dust, soda cans, gravel, and other small trash are flying with the wind. To the south, the morning sunshine yields to a gigantic, solid wall of blue-gray storm clouds.

A blue Toyota Prius screeches of the suspension bridge carrying six-lanes-wide Hennepin Avenue and skids to a halt. Kaitlyn and Donny stumble up to the side of it and get in.

“Hi, Allison. Hi Gary. Thanks for picking us up from school!” says Kaitlyn.

“Donny, Kaitlyn,” says Allison. “Are you two okay?”

“Yes, thank God you guys came!” Kaitlyn answers.

Before anyone can relax, Donny blurts, “ _Where’s the tornado?”_

“I don’t know,” says Gary. “I can’t see it from here!”

“You aren’t supposed to see it, that’s what your radar’s for, stupidhead!” Donny retorts.

“Oh,” says Gary. He checks his Samsung Galaxy S-10 and then mutters, “That ain’t good.”

Kaitlyn, Allison, and Donny all simultaneously yell “WHAT??”.

“The Tornado from Belle Plaine just crossed the Minnesota River into Bloomington with a forward speed of 73 miles per hour. There’s another Tornado in northwestern Eagan running parallel to the other river, the _Mississippi_ River, and there’s a brand-new Tornado in Roseville that just laid waste to the Roseville Shopping Mall.”

“Oh, my, god,” Allison says in disbelief. An awestruck expression plays across her face.

Says Gary, “None of these Tornadoes are even that wide. They are all, literally, no more than a block or so wide, at _best_ , but they all have sustained wind speeds between 250 and 350 miles per hour.”

As she stomps on the gas pedal Allison says, “Do Arlene and the others know this?”

“Yeah. And don’t ask me how this happened, but apparently the airport is authorizing free evacuations on Translucent Airlines and Ultraviolet Airlines.”

“That’s horrible news,” Allison says. “The last place we wanna be during a Tornado Sequence Warning is in the sky.”

Gary counters, “Allison! We can’t outrun the tornadoes on the ground. At this point we just have to leave Minneapolis! The only way we’ll be able to do that is to get to the airport first!”

“So, wait,” says Donny. “We’re getting on a plane?”

“My mistake,” says Gary. “All airlines at MSP are evacuatin’ for free!”

\----

 

>  Good morning, Twin Cities! This is your Deejay, Alex the Warrior, thank you for listening! Listen up; we’re still givin’ out tickets to the Massive Festival. This is a weeklong party, rain or shine, so all ya have to do is call us at Six-Twelve, Three-Three-Three, Zero-Nine-Three-Seven, and be Caller Four every hour, and we’ll give you enough tickets for a group of five. Last year the Massive Festival attracted seven-hundred-thousand people! We’re lookin’ to break that record this year! We’ll be back in less than 90 seconds for the hottest hit music in Saint — Oh, no . . . Hold on . . . hey, a tornado is coming toward our studio! This is not a joke! A tornado is in the Twin Cities! You all have to take shelter, right now! Don’t worry about me! I’ll be fine! I love you, Twin Cities!>
> 
> — Alex the Warrior, cohost of Citywide Hitz 93.7, Monday May 5th 2036, 904amCDT

\----

**Eastbound Interstate 494 at Walmart near the Portland Avenue Exit — Bloomington**

**856amCDT**

 

Like an alien army from an action-packed science-fiction film, the Tornadoes are making an enormous, swift proliferation of the Twin Cities from the south and southwest.

The route that Allison has chosen to take now seems like a death trap. The sky is choked with flying trash and debris. The little blue Prius weaves around the other cars the six-lanes-wide Interstate 494 at a speed of 86 miles per hour. There is no room for error here. The car dodges bikes, signs, compost bins, phonebooks, chairs, computers, vehicles, and just about everything else that can be named.

“What the hell!” Kaitlyn screams.

“Watch out for the bus!” Donny screams.

“Heads up!" Trey screams.

Allison yells, “Shut up! I can’t drive with you all screamin’ in my ear!”

“You can’t drive at all!” Gary yells.

“Hey, at least give me some credit for getting us down here!” Allison yells.

"Shut the hell up, dude!" Donny snaps at Gary.

Gary is filming the Mall of America, being approached by a 100-yards-wide Tornado, on his camcorder.

The Mall Tornado begins to traverse a parking lot on the south side of this mall. Chunks of the parking lot and hundreds of cars are flung into the sky in a matter of seconds. Cars fly in all directions. The Tornado then makes her way to the mall building itself, moving at fifteen miles per hour, instantly shredding away the walls and the roof. White steel, glass fragments, concrete slabs, and things from within the mall are lifted up and torn apart. The Tornado proceeds straight through the mall like an icebreaker, throwing objects everywhere. Small explosions erupt here and there, sending fire shooting skyward.

The Mall Tornado, unmatched in strength for her size, then starts to turn due northeast.

About an eighth of a mile ahead of the Prius, the vertical support beam of a sign bridge is struck by a flying refrigerator that still contains food. The impact jars loose the electronic board and a huge green exit sign. They both start falling down to the freeway in front of Allison.

Kaitlyn screams.

Donny yells, “Whoa!”

Gary turns around in his seat and shout, “Heads up!”

The electronic board crashes against the roadway and explodes into a shower of sparks. Allison swerves expertly around it.

A black Ford F-150 crashes into the green exit sign and then into a bike.

Upon hitting the bike, the truck does a 540-degree front-flip and then skids along the freeway. Other less-reactive cars try to go around it, but many end up hitting it as well, causing a huge pileup behind them.

Gary spots another Tornado in the distance. This Tornado and the Mall Tornado have the same diameter, about three-hundred feet wide. The new one is on a direct path toward the heart of Saint Paul, which has a population of more than eight-thousand at any given time. He pans the camcorder towards the new Tornado and focuses in on it, to the best of his ability. He is careful not to zoom too far into the shot because of all the shaking happening to the car, which would be translated through his camcorder, creating a wildly dizzying and unsteady shot

Allison yells, “Gary, are you tracking these Tornadoes?”

“Aahh, kind-of.”

Allison reiterates, “Are you, yes or no?!”

“Aahh, should I be?” Gary asks.

“Yes you _should_!”

“Then I am!”

A city bus falls from the sky onto another overhanging exit sign on the other side of the freeway, about a thousand feet ahead of Allison. The bus lands on its back end. The impact with the freeway shortens the bus to just under half its original length. Gary has gotten that on camera.

As he struggles to keep the camera from shaking, Gary says, “Damn.”

Donny says, “Hey, we have to get to Highway 5! That’s how we get to the main Terminals of the airport!”

“Where?” Allison shoots back. “All the signs are gone!”

“Right there! See those bridges up there?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay yeah, it’s a ramp! We’ll be able to get to the airport like that!”

When the Prius reaches the ramp and drives over Interstate 35-West, everybody in the car has an unobstructed view of the destruction of Minneapolis. Donny blinks his wide eyes in astonishment and a deep sadness for those trapped in the path of destruction.

\----

 

 

> < Miss Amanda yeah, I’m right now at the confluence of the Minnesota and Mississippi rivers. This is becoming the worst tornado outbreak we have seen since 2011. A couple minutes ago we counted seven tornadoes on the ground at the same time.. This is why we need everybody who can hear me, to seek out a very strong, very robust shelter, immediately. The tornadoes are quite literally everywhere now. There really is nothing else to do except head, for, shelter.>
> 
> <Yes, Jack, it definitely looks like a bad day in Minneapolis. Do you know if they cities have received the Tornado Sequence Warning?>
> 
> <Well ya know, it ain’t just Minneapolis even. Right now, we have two tornadoes touching the ground in Saint Paul, three in Minneapolis, and some lone ones in Brooklyn Park and others suburbs. What’s weird about this outbreak is that for some reason none of the tornadoes are wider than a few hundred feet. In fact, the widest tornado I see right now is over there — about a mile from us, near that freeway. Now we know that the worst kind of tornado damage comes from tornadoes that are less than a quarter-mile wide. So while this tornado does not look that impressive it is definitely not like the ones you see in movies, where the biggest tornadoes are always the strongest. No. This is reality, and this tornado is indeed extremely dangerous.>
> 
> Amanda Return speaking to Jack Connors via live feed on CNN— Monday May 5, 2036 — 906amCDT

\----


	3. Terminal Velocity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Karen Ferula, Trey's love interest.

**Minneapolis Saint Paul International Airport**

**Monday May 5, 2036 - 902am CDT**

Glumack Drive is a short freeway that connects Minnesota Highway 5 to the Lindbergh Air Terminal. The rain starts to fall heavily as Allison drives the blue Prius towards the end of this freeway at 76 miles per hour.

This airport has maybe a dozen gigantic parking garages. It can handle more than two-thousand planes per day. On more than 2-thousand acres of land, this airport is a massive transportation hub, serving 40 major airlines including Southwest, Delta, Sun Country, Translucent, and Ultraviolet Airlines.

Once the car has screeched to a halt, Allison, Kaitlyn, Gary, Donnie, Trey and James unbuckle and get out.

\----

Once inside the Terminal, Trey announces, "Imma head to the bathroom! See ya in a few!"

Kaitlyn snaps her head around to face him. "You didn't do that before we left school?!"

Without looking back, Trey yells "Nope!"

As Trey leaves, he sees a familiar girl, and his eyes grow wide. "Karen?!"

Karen Ferula turns around and gasps. "Trey!"

They both run into each other's arms, hugging tighter than either of them have been hugged before.

Trey's smile is the size of a house. "How did you get here? I didn't know you would be here too!"

"My mom picked me up from school when she heard about the Tornado Sequence Warning." She points to her mother. Her mother waves and Trey returns the wave.

When Karen turns back around, Trey talks rapid fire. "Okay. Karen. My brother and his girlfriend and my aunt and I are all evacuating. The whole southern end of Minnesota is under a Tornado Sequence Warning. You and your mom can come with us, but we have to leave, right now!"

Karen's eyes gleam. "Really?"

Trey nods. "Yeah. But we seriously have to go. A tornado's coming. Uncle Gary says the radar says its winds are at 344 miles per hour."

Karen's eyes get wide. "Three-hundred-forty-four miles per hour? That ain't possible."

"Yes it is. Please come with us."

Trey is surprised when Karen suddenly grabs both his hands with both of hers. "Thanks Trey. You're really sweet."

Trey begins to blush a little. "Um . . . right."

\----

A Tornado Sequence Warning is a modified Tornado Warning, alerted when multiple tornadoes are an imminent threat to various cities. Tornado Sequence Warnings have happened only thrice before.

\----

In the other end of the Terminal, Kaitlyn sees a large group of people standing by the windows. They all are wearing Storm-Riders shirts.

Kaitlyn says, "I can see the rest of our guys!"

The reunion of the Storm-Riders creates a huge commotion in the terminal.

Allison and Arlene hug tightly.

"Oh my gosh, Allison, I thought you guys were toast!" Arlene gasps.

"No," Allison says. "But we need to go, right now!"

Allison turns around and yells "Romania!"

Romania Karpov rushes over, pushing through the crowd. Romania whips out her smartphone and opens her radar app. The information says the tornado is a mile away, approaching at 10 miles per hour, and has wind speeds of 361 miles per hour.

Allison, Kaitlyn, Gary, and Donnie have all stopped to look and a tornado approaching from the southwest. This tornado is small -- only a hundred yards wide -- but ferocious. Allison glances at her smartphone. The information on Allison's phone says exactly the same thing.

Allison finally breaks the others out of their gaze. "Oh no. Ah, come on. We have too go. We have to find a plane."

Gary speaks up. "How many tornadoes do we have?"

Arlene: "Twenty-six, on the ground. Ten in Iowa, nine in Minnesota, five in South Dakota, two in Wisconsin."

Donny: "So this Tornado Sequence Warning is official?"

Allison nods in conformation and begins running, prompting the rest of the Storm-Riders to follow after her.

\----

  **914am CDT**

Trey has left the restrooms and is returning to Karen, just somebody near the soundproof windows yells "Whoa heads up!"

Trey looks in the direction of the yell, just in time to see the noise of a gigantic passenger jet drifting untethered towards the windows. Everybody in that part of the building starts running, heading straight for him.

"What the hell - "

As he watches, the noise of the jet slams one of the window panes, creating a spider-web-like fracture around the impact zone. Outside, the wind is ferociously blowing all kinds of objects quickly past the window. The jet itself begins to be lifted up into the air several feet, bouncing slowly and increasingly more chaotic.

The jet is now being pulled slowly backward by the winds, away from the windows.

As Trey watches, a fiery car flies toward him and crashes through the window, shattering it violently. The air pressure between the inside and outside of the building equalizes in an instant, sending luggage, tables, and humans flying deeper into the building as if caught in a fireless explosion.

Everyone is now stampeding in terror.

Trey is running alone with frightened, panicked people, as fast as he can move. He glances behind him and sees a tsunami of steel and concrete chasing him as the tornado's winds rip the Terminal to ribbons.

An explosion that occurs outside makes the building shake and the lights flicker, but the lights return.

Terrified Trey can hear the tornado removing the roof. He looks back to see everything - tables, guide poles, airport carts, luggage, and people - being pulled away by the howling, whooshing, angry wind. Trey's ears are tortured by the deafening sounds of twisting metal and crunching glass. When an entire area of the wall to his left collapses, the portion of the roof above that section falls and ruptures the floor, making the building shudder and groan. Trey desperately tries to put as much space as he can between himself and the edge of the destruction.

He spots an exit hallway to Gate F-4 and darts in.

The hallway is divided by a three-feet-tall wall in running down the center, the same thing a K-rail would do to a freeway. Trey leaps over an airport cart and then stumbles for a short distance. He yelps as he crashes with a janitorial mop bucket, trips, and loses footing altogether, falling to the floor in the open Jetway.

As passengers suddenly start herding back into the Terminal, an enormous blast of wind enters the Gate from outside, making Trey slide across the floor.

As he lays on the floor in pain, he looks up and a short distance away he spots -

"Karen!"

Karen while around. "Trey?!"

She sprints over too him to help him up, but is knocked down to her hands and knees when the Jetway shifts. "Where are they?" she yells, referring to Allison, Gary, and Donny.

Trey yells back over the wind, "Uh, I don't, exactly know!"

Karen: "Get away from the windows!"

Something hits the supports for the Gate, causing it to lurch downward violently, which in turn makes both of them temporarily leave the floor, only to get smashed back down. Trey looks outside.

"Oh, shit! _Tornado_!"

It is at this moment when he sees a massive red container tumbling across the ground outside, heading directly for the Gate. The sound of wailing winds and clanging metal are deafening as the container sends sparks flying with every flip.

"Trey! Come back! Please!" Karen cries in terror.

"Karen stay there!" Trey yells, making a "stop signal with one of his hands.

" _No, Trey_!"

The container hits the Gate. Trey experiences a falling feeling and then dark silence.

\----

**914am CDT**

Antonov-850s started getting produced in Ukraine in 2018. The company sold fifty of them to Translucent Airlines. There are only 200 of them in existence. An Antonov-850 can carry two-thousand passengers around the equator twice on one load of fuel. It is one of the largest, most-powerful, advanced, and reliable aircraft ever built. It is 208 feet long, has two decks, has a wingspan of 200 feet, and the first-ever bridge-shaped, double-surfaced tail. The tail and the high-mounted wings give the immense aircraft the ultimate amount of lift and stability, with a minimum of drag.

One of these massive aircraft are currently sitting outside the terminal.

Meanwhile, inside the terminal, pure chaos has erupted, as hundreds of people stampede through the building in all directions, all of them desperate to be first ones to board a passenger jet that will evacuate them from Minneapolis — and away from the Tornado Sequence Warning. The Storm-Riders are gathered in the Lindbergh Airport Terminal, waiting to board a Translucent Airlines Antonov-850.

In the seething river of humans, some people stumble and fall to the ground. Many are stamped to death.

Near a window facing the massive parking garage, a man aggressively frisks a woman he has knocked unconscious. At the Bluewire store, a Security guard is locked in hand-to-hand combat with three enraged teenagers. A stroller rolls down the corridor with a crying three-year-old girl still strapped inside while her young father lay on the floor with two broken legs.

Allison Stone and Gary Fuller, the leaders of the Storm-Riders meteorologists, are guiding everyone in their group into Gate F-6, where the Antonov-850 sits waiting to serve her passengers.

At the end of the Gate, the flight attendant tells everybody, “I don’t need to see your pass, just get in!”

After one-hundred-or-so people scramble into the huge, clean jet, the flight attendant glances back, and then she suddenly tries to close the hatch. Twelve Storm-Riders are still in the Jetway.

The flight attendant shouts, “I’m sorry, the aircraft is full! You must find another plane to board!”

A passenger shouts back, “My father is in there! Let me in!”

As the flight attendant tries to close the hatch, an airborne car hits the Jetway, which then starts to collapse. People scream and turn to run in the other direction, but most of them are too late. The Concourse is being destroyed by the tornado’s winds even though the tornado itself still physically several-hundred yards away. The Jetway and everyone inside it are completely sweep away by the ferocious winds.

\----

The flight attendant struggles to close the hatch, but she is not very strong. A small wastebasket hits the hatch at 206 miles per hour, and the impact nearly knocks her out of the jet. She dangles from the cabin floor nearly forty feet above ground, flailing and screaming for help.

Allison grabs the flight attendant’s hands and tries to lift her up into the cabin. Allison is not that strong either. Her small hands and thin arms begin to pull from their sockets. Allison groans with effort, trying to gain a foothold. One of the Flight attendant’s hands slip away.

“ _Help meeee!”_ she shrieks.

Gary rushes over to help. He grabs her loose hand, then her arm, and together, he and Allison hoist her back into the jet. As the two women tumble to the floor of the cabin, Gary closes and secures the hatch.

Before any of them can catch their breaths, the mighty Antonov-850 lurches forward. The Captain announces in his intercom: <This is the Captain! Please fasten your seatbelts immediately! If you aren’t in a seatbelt, just hold onto something as tight as you can! We will be in the sky shortly! It will be rough! Please, stay calm!>

Allison says, “Hurry and grab something!”

Unaware that he has forgotten to turn off the intercom, the Captain asks the control tower for take-off clearance. The only response he gets is a barrage of static.

<Translucent Airlines flight 1-7-7-7 is requesting take-off clearance!>

Still no response. The Antonov-850 begins to shudder from the fierce winds. The Tornado is progressing closer to the building. Allison can see it from the window. The walls of the terminal begin to fail as the Tornado’s winds overpower them. The glass breaks and the Terminal begins to tear itself apart from inside.

In the cockpit, the Captain looks to the Control Tower, just in time to see a fuel truck fly towards the base of the tower. The truck explodes the second it touches the ground not far from the tower, causing the tower to collapse laterally. The Captain sullenly says, <God bless them. Okay, both engines need to be at 100-percent power immediately!>

The sounds of the two huge and powerful jet engines accelerating fills the cabin, coupled with the pilots screaming orders at one-another in the cockpit.

Everyone looks out their windows in shock, watching objects whiz by in blurs of color. Allison watches as the Lindbergh Airport Terminal is slowly but completely swept away by the hundred-yards-wide Tornado.

“Lord, please help us,” she whimpers. Suddenly she comes to a horrible realization.

“Gary,” she gasps, “Trey’s gone. I didn’t see him come in with us; where’d he go?!”

\----

**924am CDT**

Trey Vikarian is nowhere to be seen.

The Storm-Riders desperately sweep through the double-decked cabin of the Antonov-850, checking for between seats, behind boxes, and under meal carts.

“He’s not here!” Allison says lightheadedly. “Oh my god!”

“Calm down!” Gary says. “When did you see him last?”

“As soon as we arrived at the airport, he told me he would be in the bathroom,” Allison says. Instantly after that, she suddenly remembers where Donny is.

Horrified, she rushes to a window facing the Lindbergh Airport Terminal. The biblically-powerful Tornado is slowly moving along, tearing the Terminal to shreds.

“ _Treeeeyyyy_ _!”_ Allison cries. “No! We left him in there _!”_

Arlene struggles to keep Allison from losing her mind. Arlene is the most calm, understanding, heartfelt woman in the group. “Allison, please calm down!”

The pilots in the cockpit are still screaming at one-another. Just as the Antonov-850 hits Velocity One, the speed at which an aircraft is traveling too fast to abort take-off, the Co-Pilot can be heard shouting, <If we abort right now we are gonna screw, this, aircraft, up.>

Immediately afterward, the Antonov-850 is impacted by a green, graffiti-laden container. The impact sheers off the jet’s starboard, or _right-side_ , engine. The fuel within the corresponding wing ignites, sending an orange river of fire trailing behind the jet.

A Pilot in the intercom says, <We are already _on_ heading 127! >

Arlene shouts, “This is it; everybody brace for impact!”

Kaitlyn, clinging to a chair, screams, "Oh my god!"

The Antonov-850, missing its right engine, becomes uncontrollable. It hurtles through the sky at Flight Level 5, or 500 feet, travelling at 219 miles per hour. The oxygen masks deploy as the aircraft loses lift on its right wing and makes a right turn. Amid flying trash, it roars over the ground. Minnesota-Trunk Highway 5. Minnesota River. Gun Club Lake. Interstate 494. Minnesota River again.

Allison makes a sound that is a mix of gasping and screaming.

The Antonov-850 makes contact with the ground just after crossing back over the Minnesota River. Its right wing slashes a deep, flaming gorge into the soaked, dead grass on a strip of land between the river and the northern half of Long Meadow Lake. The wing breaks up bit by bit. The Antonov-850 then fragments violently as it slices across the Cedar Avenue freeway. The jet breaks into five large pieces — the wings and the three sections of the fuselage — and then slides into the southern end of Long Meadow Lake.

As all five pieces of the Antonov-850 hit the lake, something wraps itself around Kaitlyn’s left ankle and yanks her underwater, leaving her no time to take a breath.

\----

**926am CDT**

The water is freezing.

Whatever is holding onto Kaitlyn is now dragging her down, struggling and grunting, to the bottom of the lake. Something slashes her side, causing her to scream in pain, releasing valuable air. Still being pulled deeper underwater, Kaitlyn grabs her side and looks down at where she has just been hurt. In her distorted vision, she can see a dark-red cloud of blood oozing from her new wound. She groans weakly, as a small amount of bubbles escape her lips. Heavy pieces of aluminum come to rest on top of her. She is trapped now, with no obvious way out.

She frantically bangs on the metal slab with her fists. Her lungs burn from the lack of air. She blows bubbles to relieve the pressure, but the burning feeling intensifies greatly.

She leg-presses the slab with all her strength. It moves just enough to create a tiny space between two pieces of the destroyed Antonov-850 through which she can squeeze. Kaitlyn struggles to move her body through the tight space. bubbles of her precious air are escaping from her. She sticks her arm through the opening to the space and then feels a sharp stabbing pain as a jagged piece of aircraft metal slices into her. She screams, releasing more bubbles.

Grunting with effort and desperation, Kaitlyn braces herself against the two slabs of metal that have entrapped her, and with all her strength, she pushes, with a random stream of bubbles escaping her lungs through her clenched teeth. After several agonizing seconds, the space opens up enough for her to squeeze through.

Kaitlyn lets out a small cry of victory, exhaling a tiny burst of bubbles. She pushes her feet off of the metal to launch herself toward the surface, toward air, the life-giving air she so desperately needs.

She is pulled back down by the thick scarf wrapped around her ankle. She screams in terror and desperation, letting off a thick torrent of bubbles. Her lungs are now completely out of oxygen.

Kaitlyn is drowning.

After removing her shoe in order to free her leg, Kaitlyn claws at the water and kicks upward frantically. She knows that this lake is only about 20 feet deep, but she feels like she may never reach the surface. She fights the overpowering urge to inhale, knowing that if she inhales, she dies.

**932am CDT**

Kaitlyn's head splashes above the surface of the water, and she is at last able to breathe. She gasps raggedly and chokes on the nasty lake water as she flounders to grab onto some floating debris for dear life. Still gasping for breath, Kaitlyn looks around wildly for any signs of survivors. She can hear the terrified screams of other passengers who are alive, for the moment, but she cannot see anyone. Soon, she joins the others in screaming.

“ALLISON! ARLENE! GARY!”

She screams their names but gets no response. Kaitlyn chokes on water and then continues screaming.

“Allison! Arlene! Gary!”

She takes a deep breath and dives underwater again. She looks around for any signs of her friends, but the water has become murky and difficult to see through. She blows out half her air supply and returns to the surface.

She begins to hear even more screams.

“ _Erica! Where are you?!”_

_“Where’s my husband!”_

_“Help meeee!”_

Kaitlyn hoists herself onto the floating chunk of charred plastic and is suddenly paralyzed by a massive headache, the worst she has ever experienced. She groans in pain and then lets out a loud, long, ragged, agonized scream.

She tries to yell out for her friends again, but soon she starts to lose her voice.

Above her, a flying railroad car strikes a different Translucent Airlines Antonov-850 in midair, completely shearing off the right wing, causing the plane to enter a violent downward spiral and then break apart in the sky.

In Kaitlyn’s wreckage, an intact part of the jet explodes, sending white-hot metal flying. An intense, bright ring of powerful blue energy shoots out from the center of the explosion in all horizontal directions. A large piece of burning metal flies toward her, prompting her to dive back underwater.

Just as her feet slide under, the floating chunk of plastic explodes as well. Debris sinks all around her as she tries to wait it out, bubbles escaping her lungs as she holds her breath. After being under for barely a minute, her need for air takes over, and she ehales the rest of the air and resurfaces.

All around her, she sees spot-fires on the water. She still hears desperate screaming. The only thing she can do now is scream along in terror.

\----

 

 

>  [This is a national emergency broadcasting. A Tornado Sequence Warning is underway in the Upper Midwest. Forty-two-percent of Minneapolis, 38-percent of Des Moines, 70-percent of Sioux Falls, has been destroyed. If you are in or near any of these areas, take shelter immediately.]
> 
> <THIS IS CNN, BREAKING NEWS.>
> 
> <I am Amanda Return. We have breaking news in the Midwest as of right now as hundreds of tornadoes are on the ground across the region as we speak. I will now transfer this feed to Dan Francine, who is standing by in Minneapolis. Hi Dan.>
> 
> <Miss Amanda. Yeah. We have a horrible situation, right now, here in Minneapolis. More specifically, we’re near the Minneapolis Saint Paul International Airport. And see here, I’ll have the camera do a panorama — there are six, tornadoes, on the ground in our vicinity. We can see four of them to the south. About 30 minutes ago, one of the Terminals was destroyed by a single tornado. This tornado was probably only like 300 feet wide. I mean, and all of the tornadoes we’ve seen here, are no wider than that. It is a weird thing to know that these tornadoes are that strong — oh my god. Over there. See? An airliner just crashed, right next to us! Oh my god. WHOA —>
> 
> <eh — hello? Dan? Are you there, can you hear me? We lost your feed. Dan?! Where are you?! Oh my god . . . >
> 
> — Live from CNN, Monday May 5, 2036 at 1006amCDT, 1106amEDT


	4. Survivors

**Long Meadow Lake — Bloomington**

**Monday May 5 th, 2036**

**924am CDT**

Allison sees the ground rush toward her as the jet plummets out of the sky. When the wing has been reduced to about half its original length, the fuselage slams to the ground and rips apart. Allison is right next to Gary when a rip opens up right where they are huddled. Allison desperately reaches out to grab Gary's hand, but they are too late. The rip in the fuselage widens in an instant, and suddenly, the place where Gary was just standing is replaced by a formidable 40-foot drop to the ground. Allison screams Gary's name in horror, over and over again.

The sounds of grinding metal drowns out her screams. With the aircraft crashing along the ground at 219 miles per hour, Allison knows she cannot jump to get clear of it, or she will die.

Allison is launched from her part of the plane and into the lake. She swims in place underwater for about twenty seconds as she can hear the flaming metal flying above her at the surface. Allison has run out of breath and needs to resurface for more air, but as soon as she does, she is almost hit by a chunk of the aircraft metal the size of a car. The metal's impact with the water right next to Allison creates a tsunami-like surge that flings her onto the shore. Another, larger piece of the plane flies towards her. She gasps and curls her body quickly into a ball. The fuselage piece crashes to the ground right next to her with a deafening, multiple-pitched series of steely booms, causing the ground to shake and making Allison bounce. She lands on her side painfully, keeping her body curled into the fetal position.

Allison stays like that for several minutes, crying softly. She can hear screams and the occasional explosion in the distance. She slowly uncurls her body, thinking she is safe from flying shrapnel.

Suddenly, a small unidentifiable object explodes about twenty feet from Allison. She is unable to even scream as the shockwave flies backwards through the air. Two seconds later, her back slams against an upright slab of aluminum, knocking the breath from her lungs. The impact dislodges the slab, and it topples to the ground. Allison looks to the side and sees in her vision everything upright, then quickly tilting sideways as her body comes down with the toppling slab. She sees another explosion erupt across the crash site, an explosion so powerful it irradiates a bright blue blast of energy that launches everything around it. Immediately afterward, the slab completes its topple to the ground, and Allison' head bangs against it, causing her to lose consciousness.

**1135am CDT**

Allison sits up slowly. Her headache has gotten much worse. She can barely think. She is shaking from being cold and soaked. Her breathing is painful, due to inhaling the slightest amount of water from the lake. Her muscles ache, her vision is cloudy, and her ears are ringing annoyingly.

The rain is falling, hard and steadily. A soft boom of thunder radiates around her, engulfing her in the beautiful sound. Allison fearfully scans the area around her and the distance for more Tornadoes. She sees zero.

Instinctively she reaches toward her thigh to feel for the familiar bulge of her phone. Once she can feel the phone, she removes it from her pocket and wakes it up. She opens the radar app and scans the “Most Recent” section.

Multiple headlines are screaming at her silently.

  * < Albert Lea Suffers Incredible Tornado >
  * < 176-Million People under Tornado Sequence Warning >
  * < Sioux Falls Devastated >
  * < Minneapolis Devastated >
  * < Intense Tornadoes Fire Across America’s Heartland >
  * < Upper-Midwest Tornado Sequence may become Most Destructive Ever >



She sighs, saddened by the ugly news she is reading.

She forces herself to tap on the CURRENT WEATHER tab, where she will find the latest weather forecasts and updates.

Thanks to modern technology, anybody with a phone can download this application and see the current weather actions in their city, whether they have Wi-Fi or not. The developers also made the app completely free, citing that “You shouldn’t have to pay to try to figure out if a tornado might come kill you.”

Allison has learned that a tornado shows up on radar as a convergence of red and green. Red indicates northbound winds, and green indicates southbound winds. This convergence signals the circulation of rotating winds seen in tornadoes.

She switches to a different radar mode meant to show precipitation. Massive dark greens are all over the place, which Allison knows means widespread rain. Allison then searches for what a known as “hook echoes” — areas of radar where a concentration of reds, oranges, yellows, and greens appear to form a 6-like or S-like figure. This is also a telltale sign of tornadoes. Allison sees zero of those on radar.

Her position next to Long Meadow Lake is marked by a blue dot and an arrow pointing away from it, telling her which direction she is facing. She turns the “Road Map” filter on and a road map of the area appears underneath the now-slightly-faded radar. She is in a dense wood next to the Minnesota River, about one-and-a-quarter miles east of Interstate 35-West.

She looks behind her and sees the burning wreckage of the Antonov-850 in the middle of the lake. Several towers of angry black smoke billow from the wreck.

The Interstate can lead her away from Minneapolis, and potentially away from the worst of the Tornado Sequence Warning. But Allison then remembers that her entire team was also in the passenger jet with her. She begins the trek back to the wreck.

About twenty minutes later she gets to the edge of the wreck.

The plane has fractured into five main pieces: the wings, the forward quarter of the fuselage, the larger rear piece of the fuselage, and the gigantic double-surfaced tail. One of the jet’s two engines fell off before the crash, and the second one is now also detached.

Allison can only see about 50 people standing next the wreck.

She does not know how many people were in the plane before it crashed.

She does know that is was only about half-full when the jet left the airport, and that Antonov-850s can carry around one-thousand-eight-hundred people.

Which means about six-hundred people were on board the jet.

As Allison realizes the heart-wrenching loss of life she is witnessing, her heart sinks. Then she catches something out of the corner of her eye.

She gasps as she recognizes Gary Fuller's beige suit. He is laying on his back, unmoving, a short distance away.

A burst of energy surges through Allison's body, and she clambers over to her love interest, half-running, half-stumbling.

She crashes into Gary's body and drops her head on his chest. She says, "Gary, I'm here!"

Gary does not answer. Allison lifts her head up to slap his face lightly with both hands. "Hey! Gary! Gary Gary Gary! Hey wake up! Wakey wake up wakey up!"

Allison suddenly senses something is wrong. Allison puts her ears to Gary's chest to listen for a heartbeat. She hears no heartbeat. She feels his face, which is cold. His complexion has sunk into a deathly slight purple.

Allison's heart races. She whispers, "Oh no."

She commences her own crude version of CPR. She seen other people do it in person, but this is her first time. As the minutes pass, Allison grows more desperate. "Gary! Please, you have to wake up. Please. I love you! Don't leave me, please don't leave me!" Tears run down her face as it becomes clear that her efforts are in vain.

Gary Fuller is dead.

Allison gives up with a heavy heart, staring at the closed eyelids of her best friend and the love of her life. Suddenly she feels as if she cannot breathe. Allison collapses on all four limbs.

"No, Gary."

Several seconds pass as she squeezes her eyes shut, wanting to disappear into the ground. Her breaths are heavy and shaky.

Allison clenches both her fists, swings them high into the air, and, as if in slow motion, delivers a powerful pounding to the wet earth, screaming at the top of her lungs.

_"NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"_

Kneeling on the ground, she screams again and again until she feels as if her vocal cords will snap.

She curls up into the fetal position, something she does shortly before sobbing.

As Allison collapses onto Gary's chest again, her tears fall.

"No Gary," she whimpers. "Come back. Please don't leave me."

\----

**Long Meadow Lake — Bloomington**

**1144amCDT**

 

Kaitlyn Vikarian limps along the edge of the water, her shoes sloshing into the soaked ground. She is surrounded by about fifty survivors. She looks around in anguish, hoping to see at least one familiar face. With her shoulders slumped, she stands leaning against a part of the fuselage.

Pain simmers through every fiber of her body. Her blue-jean jacket is in tatters. The orange top she is wearing underneath the jacket is ripped completely in half in a diagonal direction, from the left side of her body just under her black bra to the right side of her body at her budding hips. Her flat, sun-kissed abdomen has a slash all way around it. The slash traces all the way from her left ribcage just under her left breast, down in a diagonal manner much like her orange shirt, and around to her curving lower back. Kaitlyn gasps softly when she touches her wound with two fingers, throwing her head back in agony, her face twisted up in pain.

Panting heavily, she desperately but silently scans the immediate area around her. She has done this so many times now that it has become almost natural.

She had given up on trying to find any of her family and friends alive a long time ago. Fifty people had survived the crash.

Fifty out of what must have been hundreds, if not thousands.

Kaitlyn still feels oddly determined to help in any way she can. She approaches an older gentleman in his 40s, lying on his back. He is covered in mud and blood, and his leg has been shattered outright. His face is twisted up in a grimace of pain. He is breathing heavily.

Kaitlyn approaches him, “Sir, can you hear me?”

The man nods weakly and groans.

“Do you think you can move any other part of your body?”

The man speaks, “Yes ma’am, I’ll try.”

“Okay, we’re gonna move you to this wall over here so you can sit up. Then I’ll look around for something we can carry you on.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

With difficulty, the man uses both arms to hoist himself up into a sitting position. Kaitlyn assists by supporting his armpits. She glances around and spots another man standing a couple-dozen yards away. He is bleeding from his face and arms slightly, but otherwise appears to be okay.

Kaitlyn turns to the man she is helping. “Sir, Imma call in some more help.”

“Thank you ma’am.”

Kaitlyn turns and runs toward the other man, as fast as she can with her hurt leg. The standing man hears her and turns.

“Sir,” Kaitlyn gasps.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies. “Hi.”

“Hi, my name is Kaitlyn. Can you help me please?”

“Yes ma’am, whatcha need?”

“That man over there has a severely broken leg. I need help moving him the lean against that wall.”

“Okay ma’am.”

Together, they return to the man with the broken leg.

Kaitlyn asks him, “Mister, what’s your name?”

He grimaces and replies, “Robbie.”

“Okay, Mister Robbie, I’m Kaitlyn, and this is . . .” she briefly glances at the man standing next to her.

He answers, “Alex.”

Kaitlyn nods once in conformation and turns back to Robbie. “Okay, Mister Robbie. We’re gonna get you to this wall so we can sit you up. Are you ready?”

Robbie nods.

Kaitlyn throws a nod in Alex’s direction. Alex grips Robbie’s armpits, and Kaitlyn grabs his jean cuffs, ignoring the pain in her right hand. Together they lift him up slowly. Robbie winces.

With Robbie’s rear end barely clearing the ground, Kaitlyn and Alex walk in tandem towards the “wall” — an upright piece of fuselage. They set him down his back is leaning against it and his legs are straight in front of him.

“Okay Robbie,” says Alex. “You’re hurt pretty badly. We have to get you to a hospital.”

Kaitlyn: “Don’t make any sudden moves, okay? And don’t try to adjust your broken leg. The shattered bones with tear up your tissue like razors.”

“Thank you both, _so_ much,” Robbie gasps, and he manages a weak smile. “Thank you.”

Kaitlyn nods once. “Alex, stay with him, please. I have to go find something small enough and light enough to carry him with.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Kaitlyn nods again in confirmation, and then she departs.

A minute or so later, she comes to the nose section of the gigantic Antonov-850. It is the largest piece of the plane that has come to rest on land rather than in the lake. One of the engines has landed beside it, with about eighteen feet of separation between.

She glances at the large fire burning this piece. She decides it does not pose an immediate threat to her, and she darts inside the cabin through a hole in its side.

She is surprised to see some of the lights still working inside.

The nose section of the plane has come to rest at an angle to the ground, creating a 30-degree slope to the left. Kaitlyn carefully steps over all the luggage littering the floor, ducking under wires and oxygen masks.

This entire part of the plane suddenly shifts, making Kaitlyn fly towards the ceiling. She yelps.

Her body hits the ceiling, knocking her lungs empty. She is slammed back down onto a chair, landing on her back. She cries out in pain.

Seconds pass as she struggles to regain her breath. When she does, she climbs off the chair and falls a few feet to the floor. Her face strikes something metal, and she screams in agony again.

Shortly afterward the cabin shifts again, but not as violently as before. Kaitlyn cowers on the floor waiting for the room to stop moving. Her entire body feels as if she were being stoned to death.

Kaitlyn decides to waste no more time. She now just wants out of the plane.

She sees the cockpit door has popped completely off, so she zeroes in on it, thinking it would make a good makeshift gurney. However, the door is held fast in place by a piece of the ruptured cabin floor, wedged in between the door and some luggage.

She takes several deep breaths and then yanks on the floorboard with all her strength. After about six attempts to dislodge it, it refuses to budge.

Kaitlyn gives up and growls softly, then sighs. She scans the cabin for anything that looks as big as she does. Nothing.

A food cart is sitting next to the hole she entered the cabin through, so she makes her way towards it. Its wheels are caught on some shirts. After freeing the wheels, she is able to kick the cart through the hole with a grunt of effort.

The cart crashes down a mountain of debris and lands on the wet ground. Kaitlyn clambers after it carefully. As she reaches the ground, she spots a kitchen knife on the ground, with the Translucent Airlines name and logo engraved in white into both sides of the blue handle. The knife is partially unsheathed. She contemplates whether to arm herself with it or not. After remembering her battle with Richmond and Eric earlier this morning, she crouches down close to it, slowly wipes all the mud off it, and tucks it behind her belt and into her pocket with her phone.

She stands the food cart upright on the ground and pushes. She is confused as to why it is not moving. Then she looks at the wheels closely.

The ground is wet, and the wheels are sinking into the ground, making it impossible to move.

Kaitlyn lets out a war-cry-like bellow and screams “Dammit!” as she furiously pounds on the cart with her broken right hand. Pain shoots through her hand, and she groans, instantly regretting the impulsive move.

She sighs, looks at the cart with contempt, and then lightly hip-checks it, watching it fall to its side. The soft sound of the impact with wet grass pulls a short giggle from her throat, despite the disaster happening all around her.

Kaitlyn turns her attention to the massive turbofan engine. The huge fan disk has broken free, revealing the guts of the engine. Kaitlyn can see another severely-damaged fan disk deep within it.

The detached fan disk is missing multiple blades. Each blade is about ten feet wide on the outside. She sees two blades laying on the ground not far from the engine. Both blades have jagged edges were they separated from the rest of the disk. One of the blades is further separated into four smaller pieces. Kaitlyn floats toward the smallest piece, which is curved on one end due to impact forces, and lifts it to see how heavy it is: not very heavy at all.

Kaitlyn digs in some luggage and finds multiple extremely long scarves. She snags eight of them and ties them as tight as she can them to the jagged fins of metal jutting from the curved end. Then she wraps two of them around her waist, holds on to them, and begins to walk.

It is much harder to pull the blade fragment along the ground then she thought it would be. Kaitlyn has underestimated the blade fragment’s weight. By the time she returns to Robbie and Alex, she is exhausted and out of breath. Kaitlyn unties the scarves on her waist and then collapses to the ground next to the two men.

She huffs, “The fan disk popped out of tha engine, and a bunch of the blades got sheared off the disk. One of the blades was shattered into four pieces. _This_ , is the smallest piece.”

Kaitlyn puts a hand on her chest, something she does when trying to catch her breath. She continues. “So I hijacked a couple scarves, tied ‘em all up to this big-ass thing, and lugged it here. Figured we could pull it like mules while Robbie rests on the back.”

Robbie is sleeping, so he has not heard Kaitlyn say any of that. But Alex is shocked, marveling at Kaitlyn’s use of available resources.

Kaitlyn whips out her smartphone and attempts to call Allison. The line rings. After the third ring, Kaitlyn desperately whispers, “Come on Allison, answer your phone!”

\----


End file.
